The Madness of Las Vegas
by Amiyrasmom
Summary: Tagalong to 'When the Spark Dulls' no need to read that first. Sherlock and John get a late night phone call. Greg and Mycroft have been arrested in Vegas? What?


**Disclaimer: Nope. They're still not mine? Are you wishing as hard as I am that their status changes? Thank you for that. I'm sure most people would be hoping for the rights to the characters of Sherlock to belong to them and you're wishing for them to belong to me. That's so sweet. Maybe if we all wish hard enough it'll come true. We can always hope.**

**A/N: This is a follow up to When the Spark Dulls. It's one of the memories that would have gone into the story if I'd continued it. Let me know what you think.**

**The Madness of Vegas**

He had just started to doze off when his husband's mobile rang. John slept the sound sleep of the utterly shagged out beside him and he gave the mobile a baleful glare. He wanted to ignore it but knew that John would be angry if he did. His own mobile hadn't rung all evening which meant that it was most likely Harry calling.

The continued ringing made up his mind and he shot out one hand to scoop the mobile off the nightstand. He didn't even bother checking the caller ID. "John's sleeping, call back later. Much later." He barked down the line.

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Sherlock Holmes!" Gregory Lestrade's voice sounded through the static. "Are you still there?"

Sherlock debated for a moment and then shrugged. "Aren't you in America?" He asked his brother-in-law. "And are you aware that it's 3 a.m.?"

"Yes," Lestrade's voice was a hiss. "Look," he sighed. "Put John on the phone would you? I need to talk to him."

Sherlock glanced at his sleeping husband and frowned. "He's sleeping, Lestrade. You can't talk to him. He needs his rest."

Sherlock could hear the despair in Lestrade's groan. "Please? I'll give you an entire hour alone in the Cold Case files when we get back," he wheedled.

Sherlock seriously considered the offer for a few moments, an eternity in his mind palace, then John made a sleepy snuffle and curled closer to him. "No," he hated himself for the uncertainty in his voice. "I won't wake him, Lestrade. You'll just have to call back in a few hours."

"Sherlock!" The panic in Lestrade's voice had him pausing and lifting the phone back to his ear again.

"What is it?" He growled. A possible situation hit him suddenly. Lestrade had called to talk to John. John was a doctor. "Is Mycroft injured? What's happened?" He knew the concern in his voice was audible but he didn't care.

"No, no, he's…he's uh…fine. He's fine, Sherlock." Lestrade quickly assured him though his voice wasn't very firm. "Please just let me talk to John."

"One minute, sir," a husky voice claimed over Lestrade's pleading voice. Sherlock thought he recognized that tone and inflection but he couldn't quite grasp it. The accent was American but there was something familiar about it.

"Right," Lestrade sounded resigned. "Shit. Fine. Sherlock, I need you or John to wire five hundred dollars to the Nevada Penal System in Las Vegas, Nevada. Mycroft and I have been arrested and we don't have our wallets. Wire the money so one of us can make bail and go get one of our cards from the hotel. Don't ask me any questions, Sher. Just do it." Lestrade ordered and then hung up before Sherlock could say anything.

Sherlock pulled the mobile from his ear and stared at it for a moment. Had Lestrade really just…? His lips twitched. Well, now he knew why the voice had a bit of familiarity to it. It had been a guard. Sherlock had made a phone call for bail money enough times to know what that voice sounded like. His lips stretched into a grin and then a chuckle bubbled up inside his chest. Mycroft and Lestrade had been arrested. MYCROFT and Lestrade. That thought was too much for the much put upon little brother and he started howling with laughter.

John woke, startled, to the ringing sound of his husband's nearly hysterical laughter. He propped himself up on his elbow and stared in consternation at him. "Sherlock?" He asked timidly. "What the Hell?"

Sherlock looked down at him but couldn't quite stop laughing enough to make himself understood. John grinned. His husband's laughter really was infectious. There were tears streaming from Sherlock's eyes as he fought to regain control of himself. The only words John could make out in the jumble that emerged from Sherlock's mouth were "Mycroft", "arrested" and "Lestrade".

John felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline. "Mycroft and Greg have been arrested?" He waited for Sherlock's nod and renewed hilarity. "Aren't they in America?" Sherlock nodded again. "Why did they call me then? Alice would have been a better, faster choice."

"B-bail money," Sherlock gasped out. "A's on va-vacation." He wiped his wet face on their sheet and took a deep breath. "Oh God!" He giggled a bit more. "Too rich. Mycroft's always such an arse when I need b-bail m-money." Sherlock stood up and pulled on a pair of trousers. "Come on, John, let's go retrieve my brother and Lestrade. I have to see this for myself."

John wearily left the bed and pulled on his own trousers before following his still laughing husband down the stairs. He booted up the computer and checked flight times to Nevada. He was not looking forward to nearly twelve hours on an areoplane with a bored Sherlock.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

John found out that he needn't have worried about Sherlock being bored on the flight. Though his random bouts of giggles caused many of the other passengers to look askance at them Sherlock was extremely well behaved otherwise. The giggling was a bit irritating after a little while but John would prefer that to Sherlock causing a scene by deducing anyone and everyone around them. Sherlock even let him use his shoulder as a pillow so that he could sleep some.

When they finally landed in Las Vegas Sherlock didn't even bother with finding a hotel and John was grateful. He did have a slight problem with gambling after all and Las Vegas was a bad place for him to be. Sherlock had jumped into one of the many cabs sitting in a queue and directed it straight to the police department.

The cabbie looked at them strangely but drove to the station without comment. At the station Sherlock was almost pleasant to the desk sergeant when he inquired into Lestrade and Mycroft. They followed one of the constables, er, policemen, down a few hallways to an office. John raised an eyebrow. He'd been arrested a few times and the only time he'd ever been taken to an office was when it involved Sherlock.

"Come in," a female voice called out when the policeman knocked on the door with the name plate of Detective M. Clayton fixed to it.

"The Brits are here," the policeman said and opened the door.

"Thank you, Paul," the woman said and stood from behind her desk to greet her visitors. "Please have a seat." The woman had vibrant red hair and deep green eyes. "Detective Mia Clayton," she introduced herself. "You must be Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson." She smiled pleasantly at them. "I was warned you were coming."

"Lestrade told you?" Sherlock asked. "No. Mycroft." He immediately corrected himself. "Lestrade wouldn't have given you any warning."

Her smile became amused. "Right in one…or two I guess."

Sherlock nodded at her. "What did they do, if I may ask?"

She chuckled a little. "They were being charged with assault but after the interrogation the charges have been dropped." John cocked his head at the statement. "They were actually the victims. Apparently they got a little…er, affectionate at the roulette wheel when Greg won and one of the other players took offense to their 'gayness'. They were only kissing, not even groping each other, so I can understand their irritation with him. He followed them for a while making comments every time they touched each other or brushed by someone else. Finally Mycroft had enough and told to man to desist or he would take action."

"Mycroft did?" Sherlock asked, astounded. "My brother? Mr. Lazy himself?"

Mia grinned and nodded. "Well, the guy wasn't happy with being threatened and threw a punch. Greg wasn't paying attention and didn't duck when Mycroft did. Then they both got into it and jumped at the guy. This started a melee in the casino. We rounded everyone up and charged them all with assault until we could get things straightened out."

Sherlock scowled. "So they're free to go? There's nothing I can tease Mycroft about?"

Mia shrugged. "Well, he did forget his wallet and ID in his hotel room," she offered.

Sherlock smiled though it wasn't nearly as wide as it had been. "That will have to do I suppose. Did they at least have to spend time in the clink?"

Mia giggled. "They were in a holding cell for a few hours if that helps."

"The drunk tank would have been better." Sherlock stood and shook the detective's hand. "Thank you for looking after them."

"No problem, Mr. Holmes. Enjoy your stay in Las Vegas."

John followed Sherlock from the office and back down the halls to the front desk. Mycroft and Greg were waiting for them there. "Not a word, Sherlock," Greg warned him. "Not until we've had some sleep, else I'll be tempted to knock you out."

Sherlock nodded with a grin. "Once you've had some sleep we'll discuss this situation," he promised darkly.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

Five years later at Mycroft and Greg's blushes from their seat on the sofa Sherlock was glad he'd been circumspect back then. It was so rewarding to remind them now.


End file.
